


Ecological Validity

by Amber



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Cunnilingus, Experimentation, F/F, Female Ejaculation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn Battle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-23
Updated: 2013-01-23
Packaged: 2017-11-26 15:10:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/651677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amber/pseuds/Amber
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Allison's hair is luscious but all that activity she does leaves it a little fluffy. Lydia combs through it carefully with her fingers, separating each fine, dark strand, easing apart every knot, her fingers massaging gently at Allison's scalp so that she makes soft, happy humming noises. Lydia tries not to think about how that makes her feel, and tells herself that this is a perfectly normal primate friendship ritual. Grooming is considered the height of bonding activities in the animal kingdom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ecological Validity

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Porn Battle XIV for the prompt "experiment".

The way an experiment works is this. You start with a hypothesis: that manipulating one variable will cause changes in another, proving that they're related. You design a way to manipulate the first variable — naturally, of course, so that the results aren't restricted to the lab environment — and you randomly select your experimental group. You test a control group, too, where no variables are manipulated, to confirm that it's not, you know, all just chance. And then you record the manipulation so that you can study the results and calculate the correlation between the variables.

When Allison's hand brushes incidentally over Lydia's bare leg, her heart rate escalates.

"Could you touch my leg?" she asks Stiles, while they're sitting (for some reason) next to each other in the library, talking about werewolves under their breaths while ostensibly studying. Well, Stiles is studying. Lydia's fairly sure if she does too well on her SATs they'll encourage her parents to encourage her to graduate her early, and there is no way she's missing out on being prom queen and senior class president just because they think she should advance to a level where she's no longer top of the class.

"Huhwhat?" he asks, and manages to knock at least three books off the table with the sheer power of his flabbergast. Lydia rolls her eyes.

"My leg, Stiles? Your hand? Now?"

He touches it reverently, with somewhat sweaty fingers. She's not wearing stockings. He starts out about mid-thigh, immediately moves it lower like he hadn't meant to overreach, glances a couple of times at her face and tentatively starts to creep it higher.

"Uh, is this okay? How does ... that feel." He looks like he's not sure what he's asking her.

"Fine, Stiles. Thanks." Lydia sighs, collects her books, brushes away Stiles' hand like a horse might a fly, and stands. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. He's still staring at her, opens his mouth like maybe he's pissed off, but she's already leaving with her hips shimmying. Calls back brightly: "See you 'round!"

When Allison drapes next to her on the couch as they watch Bridget Jones' Diary, head on Lydia's shoulder because she's miserable about boys, Lydia feels it again. Not just a heart-rate acceleration, but a definite tummy-flutter. She has butterflies. Butterflies, over her best friend! This is simply unacceptable.

When Allison puts her head in Lydia's lap, none of the bad things in the world can touch her. Not the stuff on the nightly news that makes her furious for the stupidity of the world, not the way she wakes up gasping in the middle of the night with the taste of ash and blood in her mouth, not Jackson taking his key and leaving town like her confession had meant absolutely nothing despite being perfectly timed to _save his life_ — no! None of that matters.

Allison's hair is luscious but all that activity she does leaves it a little fluffy. Lydia combs through it carefully with her fingers, separating each fine, dark strand, easing apart every knot, her fingers massaging gently at Allison's scalp so that she makes soft, happy humming noises. Lydia tries not to think about how that makes her feel, and tells herself that this is a perfectly normal primate friendship ritual. Grooming is considered the height of bonding activities in the animal kingdom.

When Allison wears the green dress that Lydia bought her to school, she catalogues that it makes her feel both possessive (because that's her friend wearing her dress and her Allison), smug (because of course the colour brings out Allison's perfect chocolate-brown hair and eyes, since Lydia is as fantastic at fashion as she is at absolutely everything else), and slightly wet between the legs. Lydia detours via the ladies' bathrooms and, within the privacy of a stall, puts one foot on the toilet seat and touches herself gingerly, trying to work out what this means, other than that she should maybe wear a panty-liner if she doesn't want to ruin her favourite pair of panties.

When Allison flops all skinny long-limbed and post-party drunk over Lydia's bed, her top rides up to reveal the flat muscle of her abdomen, sharp hip-bones, and the way her entire body is a work of art, it temporarily cuts off the air-supply to Lydia's brain. Or that's the excuse she's giving for the fact that she says, "You know, we should really have sex."

"Pardon, Lydia?" Allison chokes, half-laughing. She obviously thinks Lydia is drunk, kidding, or both. Lydia makes a soft _hmph_ noise, flicks her perfect curls and just tries to go with it.

"I mean it. Our _ex_ boyfriends are both werewolfy jerks, we're both incredibly hot, sex is great for you mentally _and_ physically... it just seems like the smart thing to do." She gives Allison a smile that she hopes is confident and convincing. "It's not like I'm a lesbian or anything, but what are friends for?"

Somewhere during this monologue Allison had swung around on the bed, and now she lies with her head propped up on a hand, and despite the fact that it's the end of the night so her eyeliner's a little blurry, her lipstick smudged from the way she presses her lips together when she's thinking, she still manages to look like a model waiting for a photoshoot. "Yeah," she says, slowly, and her eyes are narrowed but she still looks like she might be laughing at Lydia. "Yeah, we could do that."

When Allison bites down on Lydia's nipple, she makes a squeaking noise she's never made in the bedroom before, not even when Jackson used her vibrator _and_ his tongue. Not even the first time they'd tried anal. Allison giggles nervously, and her hand is hot against Lydia's abdomen. "Is that... okay?"

"Yeah," Lydia says, breathless and uncertain, tossing her strawberry blonde hair. "I think so. Do it again."

Allison does it again, and this time Lydia gives a moaning sigh and arches a little.

"I'd say that works for you," says Allison, and if she's a little smug then Lydia forgives her when she goes back to laving over her breasts.

When Lydia finally gets Allison pinned down under her on the bed, hip-bones digging into her blunt palms, she takes her time. Her gloss came off somewhere around Allison's collarbone, so now her lips are perfectly soft as they skim below her navel. Everything is trimmed and neat — not like boys, who shove roughly at Lydia's mouth with their dripping dicks, hair everywhere. No, Alison is shivery and pliant, and Lydia can kiss all over her thighs and outer lips without worrying about encountering anything _gross_.

Allison tugs at her hair. Lydia hums, and gives a little kitten lick, and then another, and then she realizes that actually, girls are somewhat messy after all, and presses her face into the slickness.

When Allison makes Lydia come, it's with three fingers buried in her cunt, crooking. Lydia thinks she's going to explode, or wet the bed, and she's making these high-pitched shrieking noises over and over like a smoke alarm. Everything below her abdomen is a hot pressure, and she writhes as Allison finger-fucks her relentlessly. Her orgasm is so intense that she can't even make noise, curling into herself, her whole pussy contracting, hot, bursting forth, everything spasming as she arches back and shakes with the release of it.

"Oh my god," Allison is saying as Lydia drifts along. "I think you peed a bit."

Lydia immediately lifts her head, and her green eyes are still a little cloudy, but she's interested. "Did I _ejaculate_?"

Allison looks down at the spray of wet on the bed. "I didn't know girls could do that."

"It's called squirting," says Lydia with the easy air of someone who is educated even in sexual anatomy and porn. She's biting her lip, though, and she runs a hand through her mussed hair. "Some people believe it's a myth." She gives Allison a tiny, wicked little smile. "I think this calls for a new hypothesis."

"What was the _first_ hypothesis?" Allison asks with a sidelong dubious look. Lydia just reaches down and drags her back up the bed to be kissed.

**Author's Note:**

> My tumblr is [deadpans](http://deadpans.tumblr.com).


End file.
